


Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold

by Anonymous



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I'm surprised this hasn't been done yet tbh, M/M, emotional h/c, h/c, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The storm's brewing, as one person keeps careful watch.





	Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vetiverite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vetiverite/gifts).

> Welcome to the fandom! Really love your contributions so far and appreciate you sharing your writing with us. 
> 
> And remember kids - stay safe in the mountains!

The High Altitude Mountain Rescue Base Number 32, commonly referred to as the ‘Eagle’s Nest’ wasn’t at all the grand affair that the name suggested. It existed in its current location for close to 150 years – originally it must have looked quite romantic, set up as a sturdy log cabin with a traditional thatched roof. But then some 50 years ago the cabin made way for a series of squat little concrete buildings with far more practical tall slanted roofs, two new observation points and a concrete road leading up to it. 

Not much has changed since then, except perhaps for the road, which had been patched up so many times that by now a smoother ride could be achieved off-roading down the mountain side. 

The inside wasn’t much different: clad throughout in orange-varnished pine, heated by an ancient tiled stove in the main room (aka the ‘Command Centre’), decorated with a stylish mix of long-forgotten Christmas decorations, wall calendars with curling edges, framed certificates and awards and finally a series of three hideous, porcelain flying pigs. 

And yet, Fili loved this place, more so than his own home; it was about the highest point he could stay for any prolonged periods of time, surrounded by wild nature, incredible views, and with barely any people. 

For the thirty-something year-old blond this place was heaven; that he got to save people whenever he stayed around was just a bonus. 

\---

Fili’s pen froze in place and hovered for a moment above the crossword he was working on, as the first ominous thunder sounded in the distance. He frowned, looked up and out through the giant panoramic window, which gave him the perfect view of the domain he guarded. 

There was always a chance that it was just a rock slide. Fili narrowed his eyes and surveyed the sky. No. Clouds were definitely forming, evolving from harmless white fluffy tufts into a rolling, twisting, darkening front. 

His crossword forgotten, Fili reached for the laptop. He typed away several website addresses, checked the warnings. When he clocked in in the morning there was nothing sinister about the forecast whatsoever. 

There certainly was now. It was coming from across the border and growing in force into something that might have started life as a simple convection storm, but by now was a proper tempest. Of course, that made it all the more dangerous – whoever set out in the morning with clear skies, would be at their furthest point right about now. Which usually meant being at their highest, too. 

Fili considered. 

It was Thursday, too soon then for the usual weekend siege of the tallest peaks by scores of tourists. Late summer meant fewer visitors too, than at the height of the season. And then there was the factor he couldn’t accurately predict: human behaviour. Those who had some experience or even common sense were hopefully making their way down to lower ground. But there was no way to tell how many would ignore the warning signs. 

And to think that by all accounts it was meant to be a blissfully uneventful shift. 

Fili picked up the phone; he needed some numbers. 

\---

“Bombur. How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. It hasn’t hit yet, but it sounds like we’re about to be shelled.”

Fili bit his lip. Bombur’s Lodge was the furthest one East, within the area they covered. It wasn’t particularly high, but it was popular for the incredible home-cooked food Bombur served his guests. There were rarely any spare beds available if you haven’t pre-booked yours, though of course a wary mountain rescuer coming down would always find a place for a kip and a small feast to fortify him. 

“I need to know who’s out there, Bom.”

“’Course. Let me check the book.”

Within the tiny kitchen of the base, Fili placed his lunch in the microwave, as he waited for his answer. He wasn’t particularly hungry yet, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t have the time to eat later. 

“Twelve folks,” Bombur finally confirmed over a crack on the line – a sure sign that the weather was breaking. “But three of them were going down into the valley. Of the other nine, four Americans and a couple from Norway. Trails nine and six, I think.”

“Right.” Fili stabbed a piece of chicken, jotted down the details. “Thanks. Let me know if anything changes?”

“Will do. Stay safe, lad.”

“Always.”

\---

Bilbo rang him himself, on the private line, leaving the emergency number open. 

“We’ve got a problem,” he said without preamble, which was unusual for the courteous hostel owner. “There was an organised tour here, twenty five of them. Some sort of corporate, team building trip. They left late, around ten.”

Fili automatically looked up, as if he could just spot the group Bilbo was describing. They were bound to be inexperienced and they were likely to feel a false sense of security, traveling in a large group. They were exactly the sort of people that Fili would describe as his nightmare customers. 

“Where were they headed?” he asked, even though he could guess the answer. Bilbo’s was the highest of the lodges. 

“Where they’re all headed, Fili. The summit.”

\---

Dwalin was at the checkout when his phone rang, but he knew better than to ignore it. 

“What’s up?” he asked by the way of greeting, trying to single-handedly load up his groceries. 

“Where are you?” asked a familiar voice. 

“Dale. Getting Brisket’s food. Why?”

Brisket was Dwalin’s pet fox. He’d rescued it whilst on call one day when it was only a kit, bottle-fed it until it was big enough to eat solid food and wriggle a place for itself in his heart. The fox _adored_ him, even ventured out into the mountains with him sometimes, sniffing out rabbits and causing endless delays, whenever anyone spotted them. Brisket was also completely, batshit crazy. 

“Because I think we need you in.”

Dwalin handed over his bank card. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t been outside for a while, have you? There’s a mother of all storms coming in fast and we’ve got close to 150 people out there. Bofur is on call today and he’s just managed to get in, but I imagine –“ there was a really loud bang which stopped Fili for a moment, “- that we’ll need all the help we can get.”

\---

Bofur rocked up eating a croissant. 

He rolled in less than a minute before the heavens opened and immediately made everything better with his broad, honest smiles. 

It wasn’t long before he was brewing industrial quantities of tea and checking the gear, sorting out backpacks and chattering to his heart’s content.

And then Fili took his first call. 

\---

Dwalin arrived 45 minutes later and brought with him Nori. They must have been busy, because Dori, Gloin, his brother Oin – their chief medical officer – and Bifur were apparently all on their way too. 

He took one look at Fili’s meticulous notes, a series of terrain maps stretched out on their table and adorned with markers and simply said: “Go.”

Technically, as the officer on duty, Fili was responsible for allocating resources and managing the entire operation, but they’d known each other long enough to know where their strengths lay. As one of their youngest rescuers, Fili was much more use in the field: calm, focussed and able to stay out longer than most.

“I’ll run the circus,” Dwalin announced, more than suggested, sprawling comfortably in the nearby chair and handing him one of the Bofur-prepared flasks. 

Fili gave him a grateful smile. He hated sitting on his hands anyway. 

\---

He was bringing down a middle-aged, Chinese couple, when it happened: there was a blinding flash and then an incredible boom, so powerful that it rattled every bone inside Fili’s body. He looked up just in time to see another lightning flicker between the clouds, putting in sharp relief the familiar contour of the Lonely Mountain nearby. For a moment the rolling thunder dominated all other sound, but then the screams broke through the cacophony and Fili’s blood ran cold. 

The storm was raging right above the mountain top and within a couple minutes it would catch up with him and his charges; they’d be stuck, wherever they happened to be. 

Fili pulled out his radio and motioned for the frightened tourists to keep going. They only spoke a few words of English, so there wasn’t much reassurance Fili could offer them. 

“This is Echo 5, Echo 5 for the Eagle’s Nest, come in.”

“Go ahead, Echo 5.”

“Reporting multiple casualties at the peak, repeat, multiple casualties. Have we got anyone close, over?”

“Negative. Dori is even further South. Do you have a visual?”

“Negative. But I… heard them.”

For a long while only static answered him. They both knew what that meant: they found their group of 25, in the worst possible place imaginable. 

Finally, Fili spotted what he was looking for: a shepherd’s hut, one of the few ones in the area with a lightning conductor on it. The tourists he was escorting didn’t need encouragement – they rushed ahead as Fili radioed back in, a plan forming in his head.

“Dwalin, I’m going back. I’m at the Fern Pass Hut,” he said, searching the thatched roof for the spare key tucked away in it. “My new friends will be safe here a while, if you can send someone up to fetch them, over.”

Another bout of static and Fili knew that Dwalin was considering his suggestion. 

“Are you sure?” the familiar, gruff voice finally asked. 

“There’s no one else.” 

He turned back and looked up to the mountain top, where the several pine trees roared with fire.

\---

Fili lost track of how many people he helped move, secure and patch up.

He arrived to the worst scene he had ever seen: bodies strewn across the rocks, trees on fire, being slowly put out by the rain, debris everywhere. It only took one look to understand what had happened: the lightning struck the metal chain, which almost the entire group was holding on to. It was horrific. 

Forty minutes of CPR later and Fili managed to bring three of them back, but lost the fourth. He tended two open fractures, one regular one and one potential one, multiple, severe burns, and half a dozen people going into a shock. He was out of pain killers, thermal blankets, bandages and antiseptic. 

Worst of all, he was missing seven people. 

At least the storm had finally moved West, leaving Fili drenched, but fairly certain that another lightning strike wasn’t going to finish them off for the time being. 

He radioed in and forced himself to calmly recount the situation. He did what he’d been trained to do: he saved as many as he could. The rest was something he was going to work through later.

It was Gandalf – wonderful, insane Gandalf – who flew in with the first chopper, carefully avoiding the storm clouds. With him came Bofur, Oin, his assistant Ori, and Dwalin. 

“It’s the whole damn region. We’ve had to invoke disaster management,” Dwalin explained, when faced with Fili’s confused stare. “They’ve flown Thorin in - he’s lining up hospitals and more transport as we speak.”

Fili only nodded and focussed back on checking the pupils of the young woman he was looking after. 

“Fili.” It was Bofur this time, gently taking the pen light out of his fingers. “You should go back with them. You’ve had an eventful day, lad.”

Fili shook his head no, too tired to speak. He was still missing seven people. 

\---

He was descending down the Western side of the Lonely Mountain, following the trail which would eventually take him back to Bilbo’s Hostel, backtracking, in effect, the same route as the group had taken several hours earlier. It was time-consuming – Fili checked every smallest off-shoot from the main path, every ravine or ditch, every spot that might have been seen as potential shelter – but it was his best bet at finding the remaining tourists. 

By now, the time was working against him: not only because of the length of exposure experienced by anyone he found, but also because the sun was setting fast. Fili _could_, if he had to, make his way down in the dark, but his chances of finding anyone were going to be slim at best. 

To make matters worse, it was then that the storm decided to return in full force. 

Fili huffed and forced his body to speed up, calling out more frequently, to compensate for the reduced visibility. 

He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually the thunder and lightning caught up with him. He jogged down the last fifty meters towards a curving rock face, which offered at least a bit of protection. He tossed his backpack down a good meter away from the rock, curled up on top of it and pulled up his hood tighter around his face. 

He fell back flailing a moment later. 

“Hello? Is anybody there?”

“_Fuck!_ Fili swallowed his heart, which made it all the way to his throat. “Hello! Where are you?” he called back. 

“In here! Oh, thank God!” called a relieved voice, which Fili followed carefully around the nearby outcrop, only to find something of a cave at the bottom of the rock face. 

Out of the setting gloom, a flash of lighting brought out a pair of terrified, dark eyes and one arm sticking out awkwardly. 

The stranger yelped and for a moment it looked like he was trying to wedge himself in even deeper. “Please. I need you to call for help. I’m stuck here –“

“I _am_ help,” Fili reassured him with a small smile, pulling the torch out of his backpack. “Are you hurt?”

“N-No. Maybe my arm. I can’t feel it at all.”

Fili took in his position, considered the angle of the shoulder and then carefully wrapped his fingers around the other man’s, before offering it a gentle handshake. 

“My name’s Fili and I’ll be your prince in shining armour today. I’m with the Mountain Rescue Team – we’ve been looking for you guys since the early afternoon. Does this hurt?”

The tourist looked a touch reassured. “No, it just feels numb, like it’s not actually attached.”

“You might have a sprained shoulder, just from how long you’ve stayed in that position, but I think you’ll live. Is there anyone else in there with you?”

“No, just me. I got separated from the others when it started really coming down in sheets. I… I don’t like storms, so I hid,” he whimpered and as if to make it difficult on him, in that very moment a lightning hit somewhere close, making both of them jump.

Fili counted, but didn’t even get to three. It was bad: the way the tourist was stuck, he was in contact with bare rock using most of the surface of his body. Stone could carry charge, _wet_ stone, much more so. If the lightning hit the upper part of the rock face…

He needed to calm the man down, and fast. 

“Hey, hey, hey, easy. What’s your name?”

“Kili.”

The corners of Fili’s lips quirked upwards. “Well, isn’t that a fateful encounter. Listen, I’m going to pull you out now, but I need you to tell me if anything starts hurting.”

“Why can’t I –“

Fili grabbed at the collar of Kili’s jacket and gave it a pull. They tumbled backwards in a tangle of limbs, just as another lightning hit somewhere real close, deafening them both.

Momentarily blinded by the rain pouring right in his eyes, Fili felt the air squeezed out of his lungs as another body curled up on top of his and clung to him for dear life. It wasn’t the safest position they could be in, but it was better than before, and something about the way Kili gulped down short little breaths right next to Fili’s ear, told him to let him have this moment. 

He closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms tight around the other man, letting him hide in the warm crook of his neck. The heavy weight on top of his own felt strangely comforting, like it belonged there, and against his better judgement, Fili let his mind wander. 

“I lost someone today,” he whispered, feeling all the bitterness, despair and regret come rushing to him unbidden. “I’m glad I found you at least. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Kili sniffed next to his ear. “Me too. I don’t know what I would have done if I ended up stuck here overnight. Or longer…”

It gave Fili something positive to focus on, and he felt calm descend on him once more. “We may end up staying put for the night, but it’s okay. We’ve got ways of staying safe and I can take you down in the morning.”

He blinked blearily, when something blocked off the rain above his face. “Promise?”

Fili smiled. “Yeah. Promise.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene,” Kili offered a shaky smile of his own. “But the storms are really not my thing and you feel…”

Fili searched his eyes and for no reason whatsoever thought that they could kiss now and he wouldn’t have minded. 

“… right.” Kili finished, swallowed, licked his lips. 

“You know, normally I ask that you at least buy me dinner before such declarations –“ Fili’s mouth said, even as his mind insisted: _he’s just shaken and grateful, and desperate for the human connection_.

“Um…”

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Kili shifted, but Fili only wriggled to make himself more comfy. “Hey, don’t stop on my account. You were actually doing a decent job of being my tent there.”

That finally brought a smile to those dark eyes and Fili felt like the sun peaked out from behind the clouds just for him.

\---

They started carefully picking their way down still before dawn, when the worst of the storm finally let up. 

They were holding hands. 

The hours before they spent talking, the instant, inexplicable connection between them shimmering to life time and time again, as they shared little details of their lives, their hopes and dreams, and a bit of their fears. A flask of Bofur’s well-sugared tea kept them warm and Fili’s space blanket kept them both relatively dry. In time, Kili was able to gingerly move his arm and warm up his hands around the heat pack Fili gave him.

They arrived exhausted to their cores, but unharmed, just before 9.

Bilbo fussed, in a typical Bilbo manner, then called the Base, and promptly sent them both to bed, with a bowl of hot soup and a fresh roll each. Gandalf could come and fetch them in the evening. 

When it was all said and done, Fili wasn’t able to explain just how the two of them ended up in just the one bed, curled up around each other like a pair of puppies. It was some overwhelming protective instinct, that made him pull up a low stool and rest his head on top of his crossed arms at the edge of Kili’s pillow. It was insistent hands that pulled at him until he crawled into the warm, fresh sheets and allowed himself be re-arranged for optimal fit. 

It was something _theirs_, that didn’t need explaining. 

\---

_6 months later._

“The read thread, 7, third ‘s’.”

“’Destiny’”, Kili fires back, a smirk forming below his dark sunglasses, where he’s sprawled on top of their one deck chair.

Fili picks at the sad remnants of his lunch-time salad and fills in the answer. 

The new recruit to the Mountain Rescue Team is way too good at this whole crossword malarkey, but thank God, Fili still beats him at Sudoku every single time. 

He looks up just in time to see Kili stand up and stretch thoroughly, revealing a delicious strip of skin and dark hair just above his shorts. A strip that Fili is great friends with. 

He accepts the kiss that follows as his due, and he thinks, not for the first time, how lucky he is to have this man and this place all to himself.

\---

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thundersnow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833077) by [vetiverite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vetiverite/pseuds/vetiverite)


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